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From Brecken Hancock

July 25, 2016

… we’ll string tin cans with twine

when we crave the tones of home. 

We tear off our T-shirts

and jeans, you push me down,

stirrup foot atop foot atop

the ground. My teeth tap your wrist – 

mammals on the water line. Your hammer,

this anvil of mine, we forge

into one another, pulse beat,

taste of iron, pelvis moulding

to palm. 

– From “Incus, Malleus, Stapes” from Broom Broom

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